Stopping the Lies
by Alaska McGee
Summary: Will Ziva ever learn to stop the lies, and admit who she loves? Femmeslash.
1. Chapter 1

Stopping the Lies

_A/N: I decided to try writing some Zabby. I'm not quite sure yet in which season this is set, so I might have references to episodes all over the place, but this first chapter is set right after Judgment Day. Oh, the chapters are alternating points of view: Chapter One is in Abby's point of view, Chapter Two is in Ziva's, etc. I hope you all like it!_

_Disclaimer: I absolutely positively don't own NCIS. Not yet. Boo-hoo for me._

**Abby**

Director. Director Shepard.

Dead? It's not possible! Not possible. No. Please, please no.

Not dead. Anything but dead.

I stare down into my bourbon—like Director Shepard used to drink—just staring at it until I can make myself say the words out loud.

"Jenny Shepard is dead," I whisper, loud enough for me to hear but too quiet for anyone else to know.

I cannot drink tonight. Drinking leads to thinking and I can't think about her. I pay the bartender and walk out of the bar. I need… I need to talk to somebody.

Gibbs? He'll be drinking bourbon by the bottle and working on his boat. He'll want to be alone.

McGee? He'll be writing away his sorrows, making a nice little chapter in his next book for Jenny.

Tony? He's probably completely wasted. Poor kid thinks it's his fault… but it isn't.

Ducky? Palmer? Both probably reading, or something else quiet.

Ziva. How is Ziva handling it? What is she doing? She also thinks it is her fault. That beautiful, beautiful woman thinks it is her fault the Director is dead. I should be thinking about the Director too, but my mind keeps wandering to Ziva's perfect chocolate-brown eyes.

_Stop it, Abby. She is your coworker, and she barely just became your friend. And rule 12, stupid! RULE NUMERO 12! And besides. She's straight. So give it up._

But I nonetheless find myself driving to her apartment.

I step out of my bright red hearse, wipe the tears from my eyes, and snatch Bert from the backseat. Squeezing him tight to my chest, I take comfort in the familiar sound of his fart. At least one thing is still the same. I take the steps to Ziva's apartment two at a time, hoping she won't send me away but at the same time hoping she isn't home.

As soon as I reach her door I regret coming. It's just past eleven, she's probably asleep. Or she just doesn't want me here.

But what if she wants company? Shaking away all negative thoughts, I bring myself to softly knock on her door.

_Oh, God, Abby, what are you even doing? She doesn't want to see you! Just go now._

I turn around and start heading back down the hallway with the full intention to leave when Ziva opens the door.

I spin around, startled at the sound and am rendered speechless. Her wild brown hair falls in soft curls down her shoulders. She's dressed in a plain white tee shirt that accents her curves perfectly and pale blue shorts. Her eyes, a perfect shade of brown, are lined with red. She speaks softly, as if knowing that if she spoke louder she'd cry. "Abby?"

I honestly am scared out of words. She's going to ask me to leave any minute now.

She opens the door wider. "Come in, Abby."

At first, I can't make my legs work. I stand there staring blankly, until finally the message gets from my brain to my feet and I walk slowly down the hall through the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Stopping the Lies

_A/N: I know, it's been forever since I posted the first chapter. I had absolutely no idea what to do next and, well, Ziva is a hard character for me to write. She usually ends up very OOC. But I think I'm getting better at it. In other news, the chapter contains spoilers for Judgment Day, so if you haven't seen it… you probably already know what happens if you're reading fanfic or have seen more recent episodes. Feel free to read on even if you haven't. But it's probably better that you don't. So… enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: If I owned NCIS, the show would suck, probably. Because it would turn into a huge romantic dispute, because I like a lot of different pairings. And since the show is amazing, you all know that I in fact do not own NCIS. Don't sue me, por favor._

It is my fault Jenny is dead. I might as well have loaded my gun and fired those bullets myself. It does not matter what they say. I was her protection. I was supposed to be watching after Jenny and I failed her. And she is dead because of me.

I desperately try to hold myself together—that is the phrase, correct?—until I am safe and sound in my own apartment. _No, Ziva!_ I silently yell at myself. _Just because others cannot see you does not mean you can cry. Crying is a weakness. Are you going to be weak?_

My time in America has made me like this. In Israeli Mossad, I had rules not unlike the Gibbs rules. Of course, there were less of them.

Rule One: Trust no one.

Rule Two: Do not get attached to anyone.

Rule Three: Do not show unnecessary emotion.

All three of these rules were meant to keep me safe. If you did not trust anyone, nobody could betray your trust. If you do not get attached to anyone, your heart cannot be broken. And if you do not show unnecessary emotion, nobody can see your weaknesses. I have broken all three of these rules. I trusted Jenny, was attached to her, showed her that I cared. And, since I have already broken rule three, I guess once more cannot hurt. I lay down on my couch and cry.

I hear footsteps outside my door. It is 21:15, who could be coming to visit me? I would assume most of my friends are not in need of company.

Gibbs needs but three words: basement, boat, bourbon.

Tony is no doubt through his third beer at a bar, hitting on some hot blonde he'll take home for the night and promptly forget about.

McGee must be writing a sweet chapter for Director Shepard in his next book—I wonder what her name is? Something obvious, of course. Perhaps she is Director Jenna Retriever, or something like that.

Ducky will be with his mother or something, I'm sure he has finished the autopsy by now. And Palmer, well, I do not know Palmer that well but I bet he is reading or studying.

And Abby. She is the wild card of the group, now, is she not? She could be doing a million things—she could be drunk at a bar, or sobbing into Bert, or—

I hear a faint knocking at the door.

- or coming to visit me, because she cannot be alone tonight. I understand. I suppose some company couldn't hurt. I slowly walk up to the door and open it just a crack. Abby is near running back towards the staircase.

"Abby?" I call out faintly.

She turns around, shocked. She can't seem to find anything to say. "Come in, Abby," I murmur. I wish to speak louder but I know that if I do, I will begin crying again. It is one thing to cry in private—though that shows weakness as well. But I will not cry in front of Abby.

The Goth scientist hesitates, but follows me in. Already she is talking a mile a minute about whether or not I may want company and how she just couldn't stay by herself, but she'd understand if I wanted her to leave.

"Abby!" I say at a normal volume. "Breathe. Of course you can stay here. I do not want to stay alone either. I will make up the couch for you…"

Abby nods. I get her a glass of water from the kitchen and wordlessly hand it to her. She drinks slowly, then says, "I'm sorry, Ziva."

I know that she does not only mean about Jenny. I know that Abby is apologizing for all the rude comments and glares she's given me. I perfectly understand—I was taking Kate's place on the team. Abby losing Kate probably felt the same as me losing Jenny. I know already that I will naturally bear some animosity towards the new director. It is human nature, yes?

I nod, not trusting my voice. Abby wraps her arms around my neck before whispering, "Well, you're probably exhausted…"

Of course, I really am. I climb into my bed and fall into a sound sleep until about four a.m.

I am awoken by Abby's screaming. "Abby! Abby?" I call, grabbing my Sig from the nightstand and running to the living room.

"Abby, Abby, wake up! You're just having a bad dream, it's okay, wake up!" I scream at her shrieking body. Finally, her thrashing stops and she opens her eyes—full of tears. "Z-Ziva?" she whispers, choking on her own words.

"I am right here, Abby. It was only a dream."

"I—I dreamt that… that the people who… who killed… Jenny… came back and… and killed Gibbs, and Tony… and Timmy… and Ducky and Palmer…and you. And I was all alone… with nobody to go to… when they came for me, too…" Abby manages to choke out these words between sobs. I hold her in my arms, just letting her cry for what feels like hours but is more like forty minutes before Abby looks up at me, eyes full of guilt.

"I woke you up—oh, God, Ziva, I'm so sorry… I completely intruded and then I can't even let you sleep…" Abby starts to ramble again but I cut her off.

"You are always welcome, Abby. I do not mind being woken up, as long as you feel better. Now, do you want to go back to sleep, or do you want to stay up?"

Abby considers this for a moment. "I… I'm tired. But… do you think, maybe, I could sleep with you? I mean, not with you with you, but like in your bed, or on the floor next to your bed, I mean, it's just… if you're there, I don't think the nightmares can get me," she explains with the logic of a child. It's quite endearing. I do not feel the need to respond, just grab her hand and lead her to bed with me. We lay down and Abby wraps her arms around me.

It's strange, but things never felt quite so…right.


	3. Chapter 3

_I've been reading lots and lots of FF lately, so my writing may be a little OOC. I decided there should be more romantic drama in the pasts of our favorite NCIS women. I could let you guys figure it out as you go along, but I don't want you all dead confused, so this is a vague version of what happened: there was a McAbby past and a current McGiva thing going on. And yes, I may have borrowed the bit about the names from a book called __Handle With Care__ by Jodi Picoult. It's a really good book. You should check it out. Love you all, thanks for reading. Reviews make me happy…please make me a happy writer._

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, it belongs to Belisarius Productions. If I spelt that right. I may not have. I also do not own Handle With Care, that's a book by Jodi Picoult. The only thing I own in here is the fact that I wrote this fanfiction. That's all. So please don't sue me.

Abby

I wake up, but don't open my eyes immediately. I want to enjoy the feeling of laying in Ziva's bed, with her arm snaked around my torso and her cheek on my shoulder. I want to savor this moment that will probably never happen again. God, she's beautiful… anyone on this planet, man or woman, would kill to be in this position right now. I count my lucky stars that I'm the one cuddled up against the Israeli beauty, and no one else. I wonder how long it has been since a boyfriend of Ziva's took the time to realize just how lucky they are…Oh. OH.

I only just remembered something—or rather, some_on_eI had completely forgotten: MCGEE! How could I have been so stupid to forget, to fall in love with my own little Timmy's girlfriend? It was a recent get-together, true, they've only been dating maybe a few weeks, a month at the most… but how could I forget? Oh God, I really have to get over her! I can't be in love with Ziva, not while Timmy is with her! I can't break his little heart all over again! Oh, I'm a terrible person. I'm wicked, I'm awful, I'm… not able to breathe.

_Calm, Abby, deep breaths. In…out…in…out… oh, I can't breathe! I cannot breathe. What's happening to me?_

I'm frantic. I think I'm panicking, I'm having a panic attack, oh God, what do I do? Ziva stirs against my back.

"Abby? Abby? Are you ill?" Ziva says, attempting to be calm but I can detect a hint of panic in her voice.

"C-Can't… breathe…" I gasp out. She runs to get me a paper bag and helps me breathe through it. Finally, my vision clears and my lungs open up.

"Abby, what just happened?" Ziva exclaims.

"Um…s-sometimes I have panic attacks." I respond, ashamed. I feel awful for scaring her, and I must have looked so weak. She asks if they happen frequently.

"Uh, they used to, when I was a kid… I haven't had one in a long time… I forgot what they felt like. So I wasn't so good at handling it. I'm so sorry."

Ziva tells me there's no need to apologize. We decide to go out for breakfast. She selects a quiet little diner down the street from her apartment building. Ziva gets a sensible adult meal: oatmeal and whole wheat toast and black tea. I ask for chocolate chip pancakes and hot chocolate. Ziva laughs when I order. I stick my tongue out at her playfully, trying not to imagine what else my tongue should be doing to her…

"Abigail, you are so juvenile!" she teases. It feels so good to joke with a friend. It keeps our minds off of Jenny.

"Well, I'd rather be juvenile than boring!" I fire back.

"Are you saying that I am boring? I have fun!" Ziva retorts, mock-offended.

"Oh, please, Z. Tony says you've never even air-guitared."

"I like to have fun in more…adult ways. Is that a problem?"

"Adult ways as in reading?" I laugh.

Ziva frowns. "Yes. I like to read."

"Z… most adults I know have adult fun in much, much more adult ways," I say, maybe just a little suggestively.

"Oh? Believe me, Abigail, I can be a very, _very… fun_ person when the mood strikes me," Ziva responds, winking.

"Oh, can you now?" I ask playfully.

Ziva's answer is cut off when the waitress brings by our food. We eat in silence for a few minutes before my curiosity gets the better of me.

"So, Ziva. How are things between you and McGee?"

She looks a little surprised, caught off guard for a minute, before responding, "Well, we have gone out a few times… he is very sweet… but I do not think I want it to be a serious relationship. He is a very nice man, McGee is, and a wonderful friend. And I do care for him. A lot. But…"

"But…? But what?" I ask.

Ziva sighs. "I just do not see it going past a few dinner dates. I am not as… invested… in the relationship as he is, you see? But you know what that is like, I presume. I've heard rumors of a former relationship between the two of you?"

I laugh. "Yeah, there's some truth to those… back when McGee wasn't even on the team yet, we dated a little. I was just looking for some fun, you know? Nothing serious. I'm not so good with commitment—"

Ziva cuts me off. "But you have been at NCIS for years. That takes commitment, yes?"

"Well, yes. But in the sense of a relationship, Timmy intimidated me. He wanted a serious, lasting relationship, one that ends in marriage and little girls called Alice and little boys called Elton, and a golden retriever and a white picket fence. And me, I was bored and just wanted a fling."

Ziva nods. "So when you broke it off…"

I finish for her. "There was some tension. It was awkward for a little while, but we got thought that. And now we're just good friends. So what are you going to do about your situation?"

Ziva sighs. "I… I don't know. I guess I will give it time, yes? I do care for him. I just do not want to get too invested…"

I can't decide how to feel. On one hand, I'm thrilled that she might break up with him. On the other hand, I really don't want Timmy to get hurt. On another hand, I feel like I shouldn't care either way, because regardless, Ziva's straight and I don't have a chance. And on another hand, I'm a little concerned. The average human doesn't have four hands…

I guess I'll just have to go with the flow and wait it out.

"Well, Ziva. It's Saturday, we're not on call, and it's hardly 11:30. We have a whole day ahead of us… wanna go somewhere?"

Ziva smiles. "Of course, Abigail. Where would you like to go?"

I pause for a minute, just thinking about the way she says my name. Abigail. She pronounces it like Abby-gale. Normally no one can get away with calling me Abigail, excluding Ducky. But when Ziva says it, it doesn't sound like I'm being reprimanded. It sounds… personal. She says it with care. It's funny, how you can hear whether someone cares for you by the way they say your name.

"Abigail? What is it they say… dollar for your thoughts?" Ziva calls to me. I smile at her mistake.

"Penny, Ziva. Penny for your thoughts."

"Oh. Well, your thoughts are worth far more than just a penny," Ziva says softly. I want to enjoy this moment… at the same time, I feel I'm reading too much into things. 

"Aw, Zee, you're sweet. I was thinking of how you can hear when someone cares about you when they say your name."

Ziva looks confused.

"Look, Z. Say… Carol."

"Carol," she parrots.

"Now say Marcus."

"Marcus," Ziva repeats.

"Say Ariel," I command. Ziva complies. "Now say Abigail."

Ziva smiles. "Abigail," she says.

"You see, Ziva? You say Abigail different than you say Polly. It's like… Hailey is just a word. But Abigail is a person to you."

Ziva smiles. "You have the logic of a child, Abigail… it's wonderful."

I laugh. "So, where to now?"

The day passes far too fast. We go to a shopping mall, and I let Ziva dress me up in various business-y outfits, and I complained that I looked like Career Girl Barbie. We ate lunch and walked around a park until we finally got tired and sat down next to a river. The sun was just hardly sitting, and we sit quietly and watch the sun set. It wasn't an awkward silence. Everything we needed to say had already been said.

As I wrap my arm around Ziva—she looked cold—I try to convince myself to just be happy with the friendship I've got already. I should count my lucky stars that she's even in my life to begin with.


End file.
